


Remnant

by network



Series: Destiny Shorts [25]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Backstory, But she turns out ok, Flashbacks, Gen, In general its Not Fun, Mention of manipulation/gaslighting, Misgendering, Non-Physical Child Abuse, PTSD, Trans Female Character, Transphobia, elitism, mention of conversion therapy, runaways - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/network/pseuds/network
Summary: Taevas' past ends up catching up to her
Series: Destiny Shorts [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1364725
Kudos: 12





	Remnant

Taevas is the poster child for a good, rule-abiding Guardian, always has been. There’s one rule she was never good at following, however.

Not looking into your past.

\--

In her defence, it wasn’t intentional at first. Like Ana, her past sought her out almost, on a mission to the remains of England, to a place apparently once named Cambridgeshire. The mission details allude her now, but it was Fallen related somehow – an upstart House getting too cocky for their own good, perhaps.

What she does still remember is how distinctly _old_ the place looked. Not Titan-Rig old, hell not even Trostland old. Older still, ancient, the manor-house they were tasked with clearing out seemingly not having aged in millennia. It was hardly standing, the roof caved in, coloured glass and metal windows blown out, but there was still beauty to it.

More than that, she _knew_ this place.

Following only her gut feeling, she had ended up in a large library/study. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases somehow still stood, filled with intimidating leather-bound books. A sturdy desk was backed against the large windows, and pure _dread_ had filtered through her.

_ “This has to end **now.** No son of mine, no Brindington, is going to prance around in girl’s clothing.”_

She’d picked up one of the heavy books, flicking it open to a random page, when a folded-up photograph had slipped out. It was a family – mother, father and a son – early teens, she presumed. Their skin was dark, eyes stern and clothing formal, but the thing she was truly drawn to was the terror on the child’s face. Shoulders tense, eyes desperate, hands clenched together so hard their knuckles were strained white.

_ She had to get out of here tonight. She’d overheard them earlier, her parents, confirming that they were going to send her to one of the Camps. The ones for “wrong” children. _

_ And fuck that, she wasn’t letting that happen._

_ She packed light. Couple of sets of clothes, the money she’d been stowing away, the cards she’d taken out under a fake name. She had no clue where she was going to go, but anywhere was better than here._

_ With one glance back at her prison of a room, she slipped out the window._

An old computer she’d got El to hook up to a portable generator then break past the frankly measly security. Emails saved as files.

_ “- found him staying at //////////._

_ Apparently he has joined the Air Force, in the /////////// Division. I’ve contacted them to inform them he’s a runaway who needs to be returned to you, but they’re claiming now he’s a legal adult they’re under no obligation to release his person or details. I have strings I can pull, however-“_

More files. She knew she should stop reading them, that her apparent past was only going to bring pain even without the mistreatment she seemed to have endured, but still-. She’d always suspected she had some kind of link to piloting in her Before, from El’s complaints about her flying speed, to –

_ The inescapable smell of petrol fills her nose, her throat, her lungs-_

_ She thinks she screams, but-_

Her hatred of petrol-smell.

_ “You have the perfect opportunity to grab him now. The plane he was flying was brought down by some terrorists over /////////. His co-pilot died, alongside two others. The RAF has him on leave indefinitely._

_ Now you just need to swoop in, play the loving parents for a while, taking care of their disabled son, ramp up the sympathy grab, and he’ll be shunned if he doesn’t accept you.”_

She pocketed the photo, turned, left, and never looked back.


End file.
